


The King of Love and Beauty

by The_Plaid_Slytherin



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Chivalry, M/M, Tournaments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:47:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23921062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Plaid_Slytherin/pseuds/The_Plaid_Slytherin
Summary: Stannis takes an insult to Davos's honor with grave seriousness.
Relationships: Stannis Baratheon/Davos Seaworth
Comments: 17
Kudos: 77
Collections: Id Pro Quo 2020





	The King of Love and Beauty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [greygerbil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/gifts).



"It cannot stand. I will not let it." 

"Please, my lord." Davos was struggling to keep up with Stannis as he mounted the stairs, but the steps were high and his legs substantially shorter than his lord's. "You need not worry about any insult to me."

Stannis turned so sharply his mantle nearly knocked Davos over. "Any insult to you is an insult to me." 

"I don't think so, my lord," Davos said desperately. Stannis was walking faster now out of anger and Davos almost stumbled on the steps, making him turn again. "He meant no insult to you, and I am not worth anything drastic."

Stannis scowled, but said nothing because he'd reached the royal apartments. He knocked and waited to be announced. 

Davos fussed with his clothes and hair. He had not expected to be presented to the king today—he had not even expected to spend much time with Stannis. He had just been taking his noon meal in the hall when talk about him had sprung up at the other end of the table where the Baratheon retainers sat. 

Davos was well used to ignoring such talk, but Stannis apparently wasn't, and he had heard a man in service to one of his family's bannermen insult Davos's reputation (and Stannis's own) when he'd come to ask Davos for something. 

Davos was certain the man, whose name was Varly, would not have continued to bait him had he known Stannis was there, but Davos had become so accustomed to letting the words of others pass right over him that he barely noticed what was being said. 

"He ain't smart, ain't anything to look at. Must be he's Lord Stannis's whore. That one probably can't do better than damaged goods."

Davos turned then; perhaps Stannis's seething was audible. He found his lord looking angrier than Davos had ever seen him, his hands clenched at his sides, his nostrils flaring, his face beet red. 

Davos leapt to his feet, nearly tripping over the bench. "My lord—"

"Who are you?" Stannis growled at Varly. "Whose man are you?" When Varly only sputtered, Stannis's eyes fell upon the crescent moon sewn to his jerkin. "You are Fell's man, then. Very well." He turned on his heel with great precision and left the hall, Davos scrambling after him. 

That was how they came to be standing before the king. 

"Well, Stannis," Robert said, crossing his arms over his chest. "What brings you to come barging in here?" 

"Fell," he spat. "Fell's man. I don't know his name. But he has leveled Ser Davos a grave insult and I want him—" He stopped, as though unsure what he wanted done to Varly. "I want Fell to—"

"What did this man say to you, Stannis?"

"Well, he did not say it to me…" Stannis cleared his throat. "Or even to Davos. But it was said in our hearing. Deliberately. He said." There was another round of throat clearing. "Something vulgar." 

"You will need to tell me so I can decide what must be done." 

Stannis's ears were bright red. "It was _vulgar_." 

"I am no blushing virgin, Stannis. I can hear vulgarities." 

Stannis's eyes flicked to Davos, who longed for nothing more than for the floor to open up and swallow him. Stannis's throat bobbed. "He made insinuations that Ser Davos has been behaving unchastely with me. He called him my… my whore. He is no such thing." 

Davos was wondering at which point it would be possible for him to absent himself. He did not need to be there. 

"I'm not really sure what you want me to do, Stannis," Robert said. "Shall I call in Fell?" 

"Yes. I would have words with him so that he may know he has such a man in his service."

And Davos was made to remain there as Lord Fell was brought in to have Stannis recite the remarks again. 

Lord Fell's response was to look at Robert and laugh. 

"Well, he surely isn’t clever," he said, casting a glance at Robert. "But you do have to give him credit." 

Stannis's hands were shaking, still balled into fists at his sides. 

"My lord," he growled. "It cannot be acceptable for one of your men-at-arms to insult an anointed knight."

"You might have a sense of humor about it, Stannis," Robert said. 

"I'll be sure to tell him Ser Davos is so sensitive," Lord Fell added. 

Davos hung his head; it was not worth it to protest while his betters argued about him. 

"It was inappropriate," snapped Stannis. "Such rumors must not be tolerated." 

"But you must admit, Stannis, one can see how he arrived at the conclusion by the way you carry on." 

"I do not _carry on_." 

"Let it go, Stannis." A mocking smile was still on Robert's lips. "Fell is aware and he'll discipline his man as he sees fit."

He was still shaking with anger; Davos could see he back of his neck was red. Still, he dropped to one knee. "Your Grace."

Davos knelt, too, feeling his face burning with shame.

**

Once back in Stannis's apartments, Davos shut himself up in his bedchamber. 

Stannis knocked firmly. "I am sorry, Davos. I did not mean to bring such scrutiny upon you. I ought not to have—" 

Davos opened the door a crack. "It's all right, my lord. I just think it best if we aren't seen together in public for a time."

"But—" 

"I'll do anything that needs doing, don't worry about that." 

"I'm not worried about that." Stannis could not articulate what he was worried about—that he wished the rumor had had some truth to it. Not that he would have wanted Davos to be his _whore_ , precisely, but he might have liked to have him as a companion. Certainly to kiss. He swallowed hard. "I must… you must… I feel I must stand up for you. That is my duty as your liege." 

"It's not necessary." Davos smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. 

Stannis wanted to argue further, but he knew when to retreat. "If that is how you feel." He bowed. "If you need anything at all, Davos, you must ask."

"I will, my lord." The door was shut rather firmly, and Stannis returned to pacing his apartments. Davos's presence in the room beyond obsessed him. He longed to go to him, hold him, anything that might make his pain and humiliation stop, but he knew he could not do that. He respected Davos's privacy, and if he wished to be alone, alone Stannis would leave him.

It did not mean there was nothing he could do, though. 

Stannis left his apartments and made his way back to the great hall. It was largely empty, and he was ignored as he walked to the noticeboard. He had ignored the upcoming tourney, as he had always ignored all tourneys, but he felt a sudden desire to participate. Lord Fell would be participating, naturally, and Stannis could not pass up the opportunity to ride for Davos's honor. 

He wrote his name under the rest of those intending to participate and left the hall. 

**

The incident faded from the forefront of his mind, though Davos still felt the urge to hide when he chanced to think of it. Varly had grown bolder, mocking Davos whenever the opportunity presented itself, though he was now sure to do so only when he was unobserved by any lord. Davos tried to put it out of his mind. 

Stannis, thankfully, never spoke of it. He did not think he could deal with the further humiliation of Stannis insisting, essentially, that he would never be caught dead touching Davos. It was much too painful, considering what Davos truly wished the nature of their relationship was. 

He spent the next several weeks behaving as chastely as he could, though he was unsure how this was different from his usual behavior. Regardless, he did not want to do anything to cause trouble for Stannis. 

It had been roughly two weeks since the incident, and the rest of the court was now distracted by the upcoming tourney. Davos watched with satisfaction as the stands rose outside the walls, as it meant attention would be taken away from him.

It was days before the tourney was meant to start, and Davos was joining Stannis to return to their apartments after supper when the king seized Stannis's arm. 

"Stannis, the rolls have come out. Did you know your name was on it? If someone has put it on there to embarrass you, I shan't make you ride." 

Stannis's throat bobbed in indignation. "I put my name on there myself, as I intend to participate. Is that not allowed?" 

Robert blinked. "You are going to participate?" 

"Yes." 

The king snickered. 

"It isn't as though I don't know how to joust."

"Have you ever unhorsed someone?" 

"Yes," Stannis practically snarled. "Thrice. That would be enough to reach the round of sixteen." 

Robert grinned. "Aye, if it were done all at one tourney and not at three." 

Stannis bristled; Davos backed away. "I am riding in this tourney." 

"As you wish, Stannis, it's your life." 

Stannis watched his brother go, his dark blue eyes putting Davos in mind of a raging storm at sea. 

**

Stannis rode out routinely, but in the weeks leading up to the tourney, he had become even more disciplined in his habit. 

He had deputized Renly to squire for him along with their cousin Alyn Estermont; at twelve, they were excited enough about the upcoming tourney, though Stannis suspected Renly was old enough to be skeptical of Stannis's chances of victory. After all, it had been a bare year since Stannis had been last unhorsed at the tourney at Lannisport, in the first round. 

"You can do it," Renly said confidently, with the tone Stannis might have used on Renly when he had been learning to write his name. "You ride well. You probably won't be too badly injured." 

"And you've never broken a bone in a tourney," Alyn reminded him. "Not even when Grandfather's steward broke your lance down to the handle." 

"You do not remember that tourney," Stannis said darkly. "You were but three." 

"Robert told us about it," Renly said eagerly. "He said you were very gallant about it."

Stannis could still almost feel the jolt in his arm. He rubbed it reflexively. "I was seventeen at the time." 

Renly nodded; obviously seventeen was the very picture of mature manhood to him. 

Stannis mounted up and rode again at the quintain. He had not been riding for the honor of the one he loved at those other tourneys. Stannis did not particularly care for songs, but if they were to be believed, that was what made the difference. 

**

Davos accompanied the court when they moved to the tourney grounds. Stannis's pavilion was a splendid one in gold with black streamers, not far from the king's own. To Davos, it seemed extravagant, but he enjoyed the wine and the feasting well enough. 

Beside him at the table, he could see Stannis sitting stiffly, picking at his trout. Davos resolved to tell him how unnecessary defending his honor was. 

He waited until late, after the feast had broken up, not wanting to broach the subject around others. Stannis had sent his squires to bed and then turned to Davos. 

"You needn't do this," he said, before Stannis could wish him good night and absent himself. 

"I must," Stannis said firmly. "I ride for your honor, Davos." 

"My honor means nothing to these people." 

"It means everything to _me_." 

Davos did not know what to say. In the dim light afforded by the braziers, Stannis's eyes were very dark, too dark to even discern their true color, though Davos knew it in his mind's eye. 

"Davos, I… I would ask for your favor to wear tomorrow." 

"My favor? My lord?" He must have misheard or misinterpreted something. Even after years in Stannis's service, he still knew shockingly little about how the highborn lived and what they expected without even explaining themselves. 

"Yes. It is customary if a knight rides to defend the honor of… someone." 

"But I don't have a favor. I have nothing." He did not know what a _favor_ was supposed to be; he supposed he might if he were highborn, might be flattered to have Stannis wear it. "I only have this." His hand landed on his luck. It was the only thing he had that Stannis might wear; he had a plain cord for his hair, but Stannis could not wear that. He lifted the pouch from around his neck. 

Stannis's eyes widened. At first, Davos took this to be horror, but when Stannis held his hand out for it, he said, "You would let me wear this, Davos? You would let me have your luck?"

Davos smiled. "I daresay I won't need much luck sitting in the stands. It is you who needs the luck, my lord." 

Stannis took the pouch reverently, if it was possible to treat a bag of fingerbones reverently and hung it around his neck. Davos's heart skipped a beat at the sight of his pouch on Stannis's broad chest. 

"I will wear it proudly," he said. 

Then he lowered himself to one knee and took Davos's left hand. Davos was so surprised he did not know how to react. It felt like a dream. Stannis pressed his lips to the back of Davos's hand and held them there. He could hear nothing over the pounding of his own heart. 

Then Stannis lifted his head and released Davos's hand. "I ride for your honor, Ser Davos, with your favor." 

Davos's mouth went dry. If there was supposed to be an official response, he did not know the words. "I am honored, my lord."

Stannis rose. Davos had never seen Stannis as a gallant knight; he did not have to be. What he was was good enough. But now, he found he _wanted_ to be ridden for, to have his honor defended. 

Stannis gave a sweeping bow. "Good night, Davos." 

"Good night, my lord." 

Davos found he was incapable of sleep. 

**

Stannis approached the tourney grounds with dread the next day. He was unused to being in full plate and was already beginning to sweat. Alyn held his mount for him and he climbed ahorse. He could feel Davos's luck against his chest. He had the first tilt, against Dontos Hollard. Ser Dontos was a few years older than Stannis and was a knight of dubious skill. Stannis had never known him to unhorse anyone. 

"Good luck, Stannis," Renly said, passing up his lance. 

Stannis scanned the crowd, searching for Davos. He was not near the royal box, but he was in the first row. He was quite pale for some reason. Stannis wondered if he was bothered by the heat. He dropped his visor into place and gripped the reins. 

And then he was riding at Ser Dontos. 

Stannis's lance caught him square in the breastplate and he slipped from the saddle. Hollard's own lance missed Stannis by inches and clattered to the ground. There was a smattering of applause; Stannis glanced back over his shoulder to see Davos on his feet, applauding vigorously. 

The next few rounds went much like that. Stannis unhorsed a hedge knight, a Piper, and two Freys, one of whom dropped his lance before they could meet. The hedge knight had dealt him a glancing blow, but his armor was undamaged and his ribcage was only a bit red when Renly helped him out of his armor. 

"Stannis, you've reached the round of eight," Alyn exclaimed, passing him a goblet of water. Stannis drank it down without replying. He was already exhausted, and the prospect of more matches was a weight of dread. He flopped into a chair as soon as he was free enough of encumbrances to do so. 

"Well, I must say I'm surprised, Stannis. You've made an impressive showing." 

Stannis paused in pouring water into his mouth to see Robert standing in the door of his tent. 

"Do you think I can't continue?" Stannis was aware that he was breathing hard and could not have gotten up from his chair if he had had to. He was glad for the break in the competition. 

Robert smirked. "Did I say that? But it will only get harder from here. Are you aiming to meet me? Pity it won't be in the final." 

Stannis had barely noted Robert's progress through the lists, though he had observed the queen's displeasure at Robert unhorsing her brother Ser Jaime. Only Ser Barristan remained of the Kingsguard, and Stannis did not wish to meet him.

The main reason Stannis did not wish to meet him was that he wished for Lord Fell to unseat Ser Barristan. There was only one man whose victories Stannis had kept track of, in the hopes of meeting him. 

"We shall see," he said. If he had to meet Robert, so be it. He could unhorse him if it came to that. He _would_ unhorse him, if it meant bringing anything of the same humiliation to Lord Fell. 

Only once Robert was gone did Stannis realize he had not commented on Davos's luck, plainly visible against Stannis's gambeson. Perhaps he hadn't noticed it. 

**

Davos found himself becoming somewhat bored with the tourney when it did not feature Stannis. It was the same thing over and over again, and in most previous tourneys, he had had Stannis's companionship after he was eliminated early. He remembered those days pleasantly; Stannis had only seemed to participate out of obligation and had never been disappointed to lose, though he had stewed for a bit. He'd enjoyed sitting beside him more than he'd ever enjoyed any part of the spectacle of the lists. 

What did it mean that he was still out there competing now? Did he really care so much for his own honor? Or Davos's? 

Reflexively, he reached for his luck and experienced a brief moment of panic to find it gone. He smiled at his own foolishness when he remembered where it was. 

_Perhaps it is doing its job for him_ , he thought as the next contestants were announced. He sat up straighter in his seat as Stannis's name was announced with that of Sandor Clegane. The so-called Hound was fierce though he was young, barely twenty. Davos's stomach tensed for the first time; one of the competitors in the early rounds who had been unhorsed by the Hound had been carried off on a stretcher. 

He gripped the railing as the contestants charged forward. The first meeting resulted in Stannis's lance shattered against the Hound's shoulder; he rode off, shaking his arm. Davos remembered that he'd taken a hit to his right side earlier; he could imagine he was in no small amount of pain. 

There was a pause as Renly hurried out with a new lance, and Stannis seemed to heft it with no trouble. He dropped his visor; Davos had seen the determination in his eyes in the brief time it had been raised, even from his seat. Moments later, Sandor Clegane was in the dirt. 

As he rode past where Davos sat, Stannis again lifted his visor and hailed him. Davos lifted his hand in acknowledgement, feeling his face grow hot. He was blushing like the young maids around them had when a previous competitor had showered the crowd with flowers. 

_What a fool this tourney has made me._

**

"How's your arm, Stannis?" Renly asked, taking the reins of his mount once Stannis was off the field. 

"Jarred." Stannis slid from the saddle ungracefully; he was glad no one was watching. "I must only do this twice more." 

"Twice more… D'you think you can wind?" Renly's eyes were wide, and Stannis felt acutely that he must have been quite pathetic in the past to have rated such an incredulous tone. 

_Perhaps I was never truly trying when I had nothing I was fighting for._

He pulled off his gauntlet and reached inside his armor for the pouch he'd been able to feel against his skin the entire time. He brought it to his lips. _Watch me, Davos. Watch me win back your honor._

This time, he had seen the crown at the master of games' seat. It was a crown of red roses, no doubt meant for the Lannister queen's golden head. But, Stannis thought, it would look just as fine in Davos's brown hair. 

Robert unhorsed Gregor Clegane and Fell won against Baelor Hightower in three lances. Both of these results cheered Stannis, who had no interest in facing two Cleganes. 

He was not sure how he felt about facing Robert.

Every childhood rivalry seemed to come rushing back as he rode onto the field to see another man, two inches taller, in an antlered helm. 

Stannis was forcibly remembered of their father giving them advice as they rode at each other for his amusement. Neither Robert nor Stannis had taken to jousting as Steffon had; Robert had always flourished in the melee, while Stannis would have preferred to be back in his solar with a book to any of it. 

_You'll have plenty of time to read if you break both your legs_ , he thought darkly.

At the signal, he and Robert both charged forward. His first thrust missed Robert over the shoulder while Robert caught Stannis hard in the same side that had been bothering him earlier. Stannis listed in his saddle but managed to stay ahorse and ahold of his lance. He must have looked alarming, though for half the crowd was on their feet and Robert lifted his visor, looking somewhat worried. 

Stannis righted himself and raised an arm to show he could continue. When he turned his mount around, he could see Davos, still leaning forward as most of the rest of the crowd had calmed. 

He felt another rush of heat. _He is worried for me. Davos, there is nothing to worry about._

They charged forward again; this time, Stannis caught Robert in the stomach while Robert's lance glanced off Stannis's shoulder. 

He was laughing almost before he hit the ground. 

Stannis was somewhat annoyed that Robert's loss came as an amusement, not as a show of Stannis's strength, but it would have to do. At least Robert was eliminated, and Stannis was in the finals. 

The prospect was near enough to make him faint in the saddle.

"Water," he demanded when he was off the field and off the horse. "And a new lance." He had the advantage, as his and Robert's had been the first semifinal. 

He was in the finals. His legs nearly gave out at this realization. He had to win now. He could not get this far and not win, even if he had to face Ser Barristan. 

Stannis watched Fell defeat Ser Barristan from the shade of the stands. 

"Good luck, Stannis," Renly said sincerely when he had mounted up again. "I do think you can win." 

Perhaps it was only because he'd beaten Robert and Renly wanted at least one of his brothers to win. But, he reminded himself, Renly had not squired for Robert. He had come to Stannis without even being asked. He had already known Robert would participate. 

He tousled Renly's hair with one gauntleted hand, much as he remembered their father doing to him so long ago. "I _will_ win. What are our house words?"

"Ours is the fury!" 

"Exactly." Stannis dropped his visor into place and rode onto the field amidst the slanting late afternoon sun. 

** 

Davos's anxiety had been at its highest during the match between Stannis and Robert, but he was curiously numbed to it now. If Stannis was injured, he was injured, and Davos would take care of him. That was almost comforting to think that he would be able to be useful if this came to pass. 

And if Stannis was killed… well, there was nothing Davos could do about it at this point. 

He could watch the match in peace. 

Davos's peace evaporated when the combatants thundered toward each other, both lances shattering in the first tilt. 

Stannis looked frustrated from the twist of his shoulders as he rode off. 

Both were presented with new lances; both lances shattered again. 

Davos settled back in his seat, though his hands still kept a white-knuckled grip on the railing. 

** 

Four… five… Stannis had lost count of the tilts. He was breathing heavily and was unsure how long he could hold his arm steady. It was already trembling. 

And the damned fool in front of him with the crescent moon on his helm looked as though he could go six more. 

On the next tilt, Stannis nearly dropped his lance, missing Fell by a wide margin. Fell's lance slammed into his side again, and it was all he could do to keep ahold of his own. Pain throbbed up from where he'd already been hit hard three times. 

The crowd let out a low "ooh" which Stannis hated. 

But above that, faintly, he heard one voice cry his name. His helm had slipped and he could barely see out of his visor, but as he turned, after a blur of sky and stands, he could see Davos standing, mouth open. 

Deliriously, he thought how Davos's distress meant he must care at least something for Stannis's welfare.

 _I will end this_ , he thought, _and then perhaps he will not be too terribly upset when I crown him._

Stannis urged his mount forward one last time. He did not think he could stay in the saddle much longer; he would have to aim true and put all his strength behind this tilt, else he would fall. 

He _would_ fall. Fell just had to fall first. 

Fell seemed surprised Stannis was not down; he had apparently been prepared to celebrate his own victory when he rounded the end of the barrier. Perhaps it was this cocksureness which was his undoing. 

Any advantage Stannis had was minimal because Fell was riding hard as soon as he realized Stannis was not finished. His lance connected with Stannis's left shoulder, knocking him back, but not before Stannis's lance hit him square in the chest. It seemed to play out slowly to Stannis's dazed mind; Fell topped backwards and Stannis lost his grip on his own lance. The crowd was silent as it clattered to the ground; it was like to be a draw if Stannis fell, too. 

He gripped his mount's side hard with his legs, holding on to the pommel of his saddle with his left hand. His right arm was numb. 

At least his horse was used to the lists; she rode out to the end and rounded the corner by the time Stannis was aware enough to take the reins again. He forced himself straight in the saddle and pulled his visor up.

"Are you injured?" he asked Fell.

Fell was sitting up, his crescent moon helm slightly bent. "I've had worse, Baratheon."

Stannis moved on, duty done, and stopped in front of the royal box. He wrenched off his helmet, which was rather dented, and tossed it to Alyn who had appeared suddenly at his side. The crowd was cheering. 

He turned in the saddle, just to be sure. Most of the people in Robert's box were not, or were giving only a smattering of polite applause, but the crowd, the lowborn who crowded the other side of the lists were going wild. Perhaps they merely were glad to see a winner decided. Stannis could not see why they would be particularly happy about his winning. 

Robert was still gaping. He finally staggered to his feet. "The victor!" he called, his voice booming out over the stands, as though he had not been struck dumb just moments earlier. "The Lord of Dragonstone, my own brother! Lord Stannis Baratheon! He wins the purse of ten thousand gold dragons and the right to crown the person who most exemplifies love and beauty." 

Stannis had forgotten all about the ten thousand gold dragons; he had no use for such a thing. Next he knew, the red rose crown was in his hands. The queen straightened in her seat, as though expecting it for herself. 

Instead, Stannis spurred his horse onward still. 

**

Davos leaned out from his seat to see who Stannis would crown. He had no attachments that Davos was aware of, and he doubted he would be unaware of any lover Stannis might take or torch he might carry. He lived in the man's bloody apartments, for smith's sake. If he wasn't going to crown his goodsister, then who? 

Stannis had stopped in front of Davos's section of the stands.

Davos's head swung left and right. On his left side was an old man, who was dozing in the late afternoon sun; on his right side were the young daughters of a minor Crownlands knight with their septa. 

"Davos," Stannis said, sounding somewhat perturbed, "stay still so that I may crown you."

"Me?"

"Yes. I rode for your honor and wore your favor. I have won. I would make you my king of love and beauty." 

Davos blinked, baffled. He had attended his share of tourneys in the years he'd spent at Stannis's side, and he had seen a _king_ of love and beauty crowned just once, and that had been the hosting lord's young and handsome son, to whom the victorious knight had been engaged to be wed. 

He could not deny the incident had left him with a stirring in his stomach, a longing that perhaps one day… 

Now that day was here and it hardly seemed real. 

He rose from his seat to the applause of his seatmates and tucked his hair behind his ears, lowering his head so Stannis could set on it the crown of red roses. 

"The king of love and beauty," Stannis called, turning to the crowd. His voice carried as much as the king's when he actually tried, Davos noted. Then Stannis bent his head again, and Davos instinctively presented his hand to be kissed. 

This was not the dry press of lips Stannis had bestowed on him the night before. This was a proper kiss that raised the hairs on the back of his neck and sent heat shooting through him, from his hand right to his center. 

It seemed to last for ages, but too soon, Stannis had straightened in the saddle. He raised his hand to acknowledge the crowd, and for the first time, Davos saw how he truly looked. His face was reddened, with bruises already forming around his eyes. His hair stuck up in sweaty clumps. But through all that, underneath the exhaustion, Davos could see the gleam of triumph and satisfaction in his eyes. He was overcome by a sudden longing to kiss him properly, to take him by the ears if he had to and kiss his downturned mouth. 

But before he could summon the courage, Stannis was gone. 

"Are you and Lord Stannis to be married, Ser Davos?" asked one of the girls on his bench eagerly before her septa could hush her.

"Not quite yet," he found himself saying. It was far too heartbreaking to say no. 

"You _must_ ," she insisted. "It is far too romantic. He rode for your honor with your favor and crowned you king of love and beauty. You must marry him!" 

Davos smiled. "Should he ask me, I will surely say yes." 

Curiously, the normal anxiety he usually experienced when thinking of how remote the possibility that Stannis shared his feelings was not there. _He did kiss my hand_ , he thought, feeling his face grow hot. _There is that._

**

Stannis had not wanted to leave Davos. 

In fact, he had _wanted_ to lift Davos onto his horse, but he hadn't been certain that Davos would be willing to let him. 

Also, his arm could not have withstood lifting Davos. It could barely withstand being undressed. He was unable to do anything to help as Renly and Alyn removed his armor, chattering excitedly about Stannis's victory. 

"Stannis, you ought to have seen it, do you know how many lances you broke?" 

"No." Stannis had no conception of how many lances it had taken to bring down Fell, much less to get through the previous rounds. He barely remembered any of it. "Don't lose that," he admonished, as Renly lifted Davos's luck from his neck. 

"What will you wear to the feast?" Renly asked, ignoring him. 

Stannis suppressed a groan. "Whatever you think best." He knew his baby brother cared more for fashion than he did; besides, Renly would need to dress him, and he would take whatever Renly helped him into. 

Renly selected a blue velvet doublet slashed with gold that was embroidered with stags and black breeches and boots. He was all but helpless after the day's exertions. Renly combed his hair and pinned on his gold mantle. 

"You will do," he said critically. "You mustn't keep Ser Davos waiting." 

Stannis felt his ears burn. His baby brother and cousin were giving him knowing looks. 

"I will wear his favor," he said. 

"Really?" Renly asked skeptically. 

"Yes." He would give no further explanation. 

"At least let me tuck it in," Renly said as he hung the pouch around Stannis's neck once more. "You don't want horrible old bones showing over your nice new doublet." 

"I do. And they're not horrible; they are Ser Davos's." 

Renly made a skeptical noise, but he did as Stannis asked. 

**

The king had insisted on having Davos at his table for the feast. Davos could not say no to him, despite the fact that he wanted nothing more than to retreat to Stannis's pavilion and his bed there. Being the king of love and beauty, though, meant he had to sit at the high table, even while the queen acted as if he were a rat that had somehow climbed onto the table. 

He was beginning to fear that Stannis would not attend the feast when a cheer erupted from the low tables, and there he was. 

He looked exhausted, and though he had changed his clothes and tried to clean himself up, he looked very much like he was about to fall over. 

He winced when Robert slapped him on the back as he took his seat, thankfully between Davos and the king. 

"Hello, Davos," he said. "How fares my king of love and beauty?" 

Davos bit his lip. He would not say such things if he did not mean to flirt, would he? Stannis was never flirtatious. 

And, yes, there was a blush. Davos smiled. Blushing Stannis was a wonderful sight. 

"Much better now that you are here, my lord." He brushed the shortened fingers of his left hand over Stannis's right. "You were very gallant today." 

The blush deepened. "For you, anything." 

Yes, they were certainly flirting. Davos smiled down at his roast pigeon. 

Their newfound roles made them significantly more popular than they had been the night before; well-wishers appeared throughout the meal. No one had ever been this interested in Davos, and he thought no one ever would be again.

It was a novelty, one he certainly didn't care for, save that Stannis seemed satisfied. 

"They will see now that you are entirely honorable," Stannis said. "For I who fought for you was victorious, and you are crowned king of love and beauty." 

Those words, initially ridiculous to Davos's ears, were becoming more appealing each time they were said. Or maybe it was just Stannis's voice. 

"Are you injured?" he asked suddenly. They were halfway through the meal and he was just now noticing Stannis was barely using his right hand. 

"One cannot wield a lance through so many rounds of tilting and not feel a little pain." 

"I saw how many hits you took," Davos said quietly. "I was worried." 

"You ought not to have been," Stannis said dismissively. "Men seldom die on the lists these days… such a thing is far in the past." 

"I've seen them die." 

"That was why I said _seldom_." 

"You should be resting." His hand crept closer to Stannis's arm, finally curling round his elbow. If he wasn't going to use the arm, Davos might as well hold it. 

"I had to show myself at the feast as champion." He paused. "Besides, I wanted to dance with you. Unless you don't want to dance."

Davos smiled. "I would love to dance." 

**

Stannis barely felt the pain. Rather, he felt it every time he moved, but when he was dancing with Davos in his arms, it did not bother him.

They opened the set, Stannis barely feeling his feet touch the ground as they moved together. He had never thought himself graceful, nor danced willingly. He knew he was far from a _good_ dancer, but with Davos, naught else mattered. The roses did suit him, the red contrasting against the rich brown of his hair. 

"I hope you do not feel silly with that thing on your head," he murmured into Davos's ear.

"Never." Davos was beaming. His gaze rested on Stannis's chest. "You still wear my favor." 

"Until you ask for it back." 

Davos was still staring at it; for a moment, Stannis was afraid he would demand its return, but instead, he rested his hand gently on Stannis's bad arm and guided them through another set of steps.

"Let me know when you tire of dancing," Davos murmured. 

A shiver ran down Stannis's spine. Did that mean he wished to retire together? 

"We might leave off after this set?" He framed it like suggestion, but Davos merely smiled. 

"That seems like a good idea to me." 

They finished the set, weaving among the other couples with more grace than Stannis had ever felt himself capable of. 

Robert was already on his way to being drunk, and the queen had already retired, so Stannis and Davos had no one to excuse themselves to. Even Renly and Alyn were left to their own devices; there was no trouble they could get in.

They walked back to Stannis's pavilion hand in hand. 

"Thank you," Davos said, once they were alone. "I told you that you did not have to do this for my honor, but… thank you." He reached up to touch Stannis's cheek, and that was the end of it, the end of any sense of propriety or holding back. 

Stannis could barely lift his arm, but he tried to hold Davos close as he kissed him. Davos's hands were gentle, never pressing too hard on places he thought might be tender.

Stannis could have kissed him all night, but Davos eventually stopped them. "Are you sure you don't want to rest, my lord?" His fingers carded through Stannis's hair. 

"I should," Stannis admitted. "Davos, I may need help undressing." He swallowed hard. "I do not mean to proposition you, but I can't lift my arm above my head."

"Stannis," Davos said firmly, giving him a chill. He had liked when Davos had called his name when he'd nearly slipped from his saddle, and he liked it now. "If you meant to fight for my honor, wear my favor, crown me king of love and beauty, and kiss me _without_ propositioning me, I would be rather upset." 

"I mean to propose marriage," Stannis clarified. "I had thought to do it in a more appropriate setting, however."

"This setting is as appropriate as any." Davos kissed him again. "And my answer is yes."

The day could not have any more pleasant surprises. Perhaps it had never really happened at all. 

But Davos's hands on him felt real enough. First, he gently removed his own luck from around Stannis's neck and replaced it around his own. Then he unlaced Stannis's doublet. This might have been more exciting had he not been so exhausted and in so much pain. 

This was folded and lain away in the trunk diligently, before Davos removed Stannis's shirt. Stannis could not help but let out a low hiss. 

"I see." Davos's fingertips ghosted over the now purpling skin. "Let me put something on this." 

Stannis was about to ask how he possibly had anything, but Davos had disappeared over to where his own cot was, returning with a pot of salve.

"I thought you may get injured," he explained. "I wished to be prepared."

Stannis did not know what to say so he kissed Davos's temple. 

It was perhaps absurd that Davos still wore his crown of roses as he smeared salve on Stannis's side. "This should take out some of the sting so you can sleep," he explained. 

Stannis was spared the indignity of requiring assistance with his breeches; he managed to wriggle one-handed out of them by himself. 

Before long, he was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling of the tent. The sounds of the party continued in the dim distance.

"Do you mind?" 

He sat up. Davos stood in the doorway, looking sheepish. He still wore his crown of roses. "If you would rather sleep alone, I'll go."

Stannis smiled sleepily. "I would like you to stay." 

Davos crossed the room and settled beside him. It was Stannis's left side, so he could comfortably put his arm around Davos once he'd drawn the covers up over both of them. 

"Davos?" he said softly. 

"Yes, Stannis?"

"Take that thing off." 

Davos laughed and pulled the rose crown from his head, but instead of tossing it aside, he set it carefully on the bedside table. "I had thought to keep it. To remember this day." 

As he snuggled into Stannis's side and kissed him again, Stannis thought there was no way he could forget today. His eyes lowered. 

Perhaps he ought to ride in tourneys more often. 

_No_ , he decided. _When we are wed, I would not like to worry Davos._


End file.
